Fortune Cookie
by Glodric
Summary: [oneshot] [set during book 7] [spoilers for book 7 and below...I guess] Darren and company except Vancha, of course order Chinese food for dinner. What do their fortune cookies have to say about them? Based on one of my own fortunes...


Because I got such kind reviews, I decided to do another one-shot for Cirque du Freak. Rated because of certain potty mouths. Set sometime during book seven, when Vancha, Larten, Darren, and Harkat visit the Cirque again. I'm pretty sure there was no room in the book for this story to even take place...but let's pretend there was. Oh, and the beginning is lame, but the end makes up for it. I promise.

* * *

I tapped on the tent flap with my foot, hands occupied with two bags of Chinese food. 

"Hey, Evra! Unzip the tent!"

"Just a second!" Evra replied.

"Hurry up, my arms are killing me!"

Seconds later I was greeted by a green-and-yellow-scaled face framed by similarly colored long hair.

"Pretty weak for a Vampire Prince," Evra grinned. I shoved past him playfully, setting the bags down on a blanket.

Vancha lay stretched out on the ground, watching the portable television set. Evra sat back down to a game of cards at a fold-up table with Harkat while Mr. Crepsley sat in a chintz chair, busying himself with his own musings.

"Food's here," I stated obviously.

Everyone except Vancha stood up to serve themselves.

"Evra, won ton soup. Mr. Crepsley, tangerine beef. Harkat, shark fin soup. Sure you don't want any, Vancha?" I asked, sitting down with my meal near Evra. The vampire grunted a "no" in reply, but sat up to join the circle anyway.

"How's that shark fin soup working out for you, Harkat?" Evra asked. Since he'd learned the Little Person (and all Little People) had no taste buds, he was determined to try out the grossest foods he could find on him. I remembered when we used to feed the Little People week-old rotting animal corpses and shuddered.

Couldn't get much grosser than that!

"It's fine," Harkat replied with a jagged smile. Evra gacked.

After dinner I grabbed one of the plastic chinese food bags and passed out fortune cookies, giving the extra one to Vancha.

"What is this?" Mr. Crepsley queried, holding up the cookie to examine it.

"Vampires," I muttered.

"They're like cookies, except they're hollow, and inside is a piece of paper that has your fortune on it," Evra explained. He'd already broken his open and was munching on one of the pieces. "Hence, _fortune cookie_."

"What's yours say, Evra?"

"'You will live a long and prosperous life.'" he grinned. "Sounds good to me!"

Vancha crushed his cookie in his hand and took the little bit of paper out, proffering it to me. Remembering that most vampires were illiterate, including Mr. Crepsley, I picked it up and read it aloud.

"'You are not the ladies man you think you are.'" I laughed.

"Too true!" Evra snorted. Vancha scowled at me and muttered a stream of curses.

"Okay then, Master Shan, tell me what your grand fortune says," he grumbled. I willingly obliged and broke my cookie open, reading the fortune inside.

"'You are a born leader who is very popular with women,'" I beamed.

"That's a bullshit fortune!" Vancha yelled, exasperated. "Our fortunes got switched! Gimme that!"

Vancha made a grab for the paper, but I was too quick for him.

"Tut-tut, Vancha. Fortunes never get mixed up, it's _destiny_," I said, and he left it at that. The conversation was getting dangerously close to the subject of Desmond Tiny, and nobody wanted to go there.

Harkat held up his fortune and broke the silence.

"My fortune is...blank," he said, handing it to me. As I scanned the paper for any signed of ink, I laughed uneasily.

"Ha ha, Harkat. I guess so."

"What does it mean?" he asked. I shared a glance with Evra before answering.

"Er, well...usually it, uh, means you have no soul..." I muttered lamely. Harkat examined his fortune after I handed it back to him. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he started _laughing_. We all laughed awkwardly along with him.

"Very ironic, these fortunes," he said, and I agreed hurriedly.

"Okay Larten, your turn," Vancha said, changing the subject with obscene casualty.

"Darren will have to read it for me," Mr. Crepsley replied, handing the cookie to me. I crush it, taking out the piece of paper.

"'A photo cannot capture your charm.'" I read. Immediately after, Evra and I burst out laughing, followed shortly by Harkat and Vancha.

""What is so funny?" Mr. Crepsley demanded.

"Not only...can your charm...not be photographed," I wheezed, still laughing, "but neither can..._you_!

And with that, a fresh fit of laughter started. Mr. Crepsley's scowl reached a frightening new level when Vancha finally managed to gasp, "What charm?" and we laughed even harder.

"Wait, wait. I think I read his fortune wrong," I said, laughter subsiding, as I picked the fortune back up.

"What does it really say, Darren?" Evra asked curiously.

"It says 'Lighten up, you stuffy old buzzard.'"

Mr. Crepsley spluttered and blushed furiously. Tears filled all of our eyes and our faces became redder and redder until we were laughing so hard we couldn't make any sound at all.

The vampire had had enough. Scratching his scare in irritation, he exited the tent in a huff to the sound of silent laughter punctuated occasionally by a quick draw of breath. The rest of the night Mr. Crepsley spent in his trailer, probably wondering at the insolence of his vampire assistant and Prince.

* * *

Bobbie Socks 


End file.
